Aftermath: Rhapsody in Pieces
by Regina Raptorum
Summary: After it's all said and done, you just gotta pick up the pieces and go on... Cowboy Bebop Aftermath fic. Complete, SPOILERS. Please RR.
1. Black Dog Serenade

I hate hospitals. Always have; too many bad memories. They remind me of the people I couldn't save, and of the times that people had to save me. I hate having to rely on anyone.

But, you know, I realize now that I had been relying on all of them. I don't think any of us had ever had a real family, but the five of us together somehow made one. Dysfunctional as hell, of course. But somehow, we all pushed every one else a little closer to being a normal, stable person. That's gone now. Our family has been smashed, and the pieces might be too small to put back together.

I _told_ that hothead to forget that woman. She's bad news, she'll only screw you over. Man, she ripped your heart out once already, just get over her. Of course, he never listened. Found her trail again, and picked it up so fast I knew he was going to get hurt one way or another. And then he found her, or she found him, and the shit hit the fan. She pulled him back into that world he'd been trying to escape for God alone knows how long. And then she went and got herself killed.

I guess I knew what had happened as soon as he came back. I guess _she_ did too. And we both knew that there was gonna be a bloodbath, and that he probably wasn't ever gonna come back through that door. In the end, she tried to stop him harder than I did; I knew he was a lost cause. I guess in some way, I feel sorry for her. Nothing ever seems to go right for that woman. It doesn't help that she's one of those people who never knows what she wants until she can't have it anymore.

She came with me, of course. Standing over there by the window, chain smoking. Finally stopped crying, so I guess that's something. I've been up here two or three times already, but this is the first time she felt up to coming. I was worried about her, for a while.

I hadn't wanted to tell her. But she'd seen him leave, and she'd heard me go after him a while later. And she saw me come back alone. I broke it to her as easy as I knew how. Bad, but not as bad as it could have been. He's still alive, at any rate, although the doctors ain't making guesses. Pretty much seems to be up to him. She just kinda stared at me, like it hadn't quite filtered through yet. Then she turned around and went to her room and locked herself in. Stayed there for four days.

I suppose she's gotten past the hurt and is just pissed. She handles pissed much better than she handles hurt. She's glaring at him. Talking, to herself or to him, I don't know. "You stupid asshole. Stupid, _stupid_ asshole. All you had to do was ask, and we would have helped you. I know you single-handedly brought them down, but _damn you_. You _know_ that we all worked better as a team. But you and your stupid thing about not asking for help…"

She's right, he never asked for help, in any situation. There was that time that psychopath was stalking him (not the psychopath that ultimately kicked his ass, the _other_ psycho.) Went by himself like a fool, when he knew damn well that guy was too much to handle by himself. She went after him, tried to help, and did, a little, I guess. Then he got mad at her for interfering.

In the end, it's easier to be mad at him, I suppose. He did stupid shit and paid for it, and blaming him is easier than considering our own part in this. I shoulda gone with him, shoulda backed him up. We were partners, and had been for a long time. She feels like she shoulda made him stay, shoulda told him how she felt before she lost him. Maybe we are to blame, but maybe we aren't. Maybe there wasn't anything we could do.

He's still hanging on, barely. So there's still hope. He might pull through, but like I said, it pretty much seems up to him. Doctors did all they could, but if he doesn't want to go on living, well, I guess he won't. I mean, he lost the only girl he'd ever really given himself a chance to love, and now that his rival's dead, he might not feel he has much left to do.

I hope the silly bastard realizes we need him. Oh, sure, we can go on with out him. But it won't be the same. If he goes, it's going to take me a damned long time to put her back together. Take me a while to put _myself_ back together, if it comes down to it. And I just know that screwy kid is gonna wander back into our lives someday, and I don't want to have to explain to her why he isn't here. And truth be told, nothing ever went as well, for any of us, as when we were all working together. That was the bright part of our lives, and if it's gone, it's not going to come back.

I've suddenly realized that he's a big piece of us, and if I'm going to be putting this puzzle back together again, it might just be too big of a piece to have missing. Damn you, Spike. If you don't pull through, I'm going to kill you.


	2. Hard Luck Woman

Author's Note: So, yeah, this is part two. Thanks to all... twenty eight people who've read the first part. And thanks to Kate Spiegal for reviewing. If I could get more reviews, I would be most grateful. So yeah, this is from Faye's point of view, and I hope I got the tone right. There may be a part three, depending on if people seem to like this. Anyway. That's about it.

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I must have the shittiest luck in the world. You'd think that would make me stop gambling, knowing that. Guess I'm not that smart. I keep telling myself that the dice don't have a memory. When it comes to luck, the past has no bearing on the present.

After coming up twos in everything I do for as long as I actually remember, I'm starting to rethink that. And now, I think I'm out of money to bet.

Everything I try blows up in my face, and in the end, I'm deeper in the hole than where I started. Every. Single. Godammned. Thing. It's been that way since I woke up.

I suppose part of what I'm pissed about, is how I've been worthless _to everyone._ As myself, I mean. Nobody wanted me. They wanted my money, or the money they could get off of me, or whatever else I could give them. There was that complete bastard from the first, and the doctor wasn't much better. Woke me up, just because they wanted the money they thought I had, money that had long since vanished. I sincerely loved that bastard, and in the end, I was just a way to get out of debt for him. I grieved for him for five years (1). And then, when I finally ran into him again, he didn't understand why I was pissed at him.

Everything's been like that. I always get dealt the worst hands imaginable, or if I don't, I manage to play bad enough to lose. There was that casino. My bright idea of going out on my own to confront that mafia guy. Do you know how much it pissed me off that you had to come rescue me? Hell, every single time I went after a bounty on my own it backfired spectacularly. Even trying to get away from you never worked right. And let's not forget that poor, sweet sax player. He was the kinda guy I might have loved, but he was too broken by the time I met him for anything to save him. And don't think I didn't hear that he'd folded.

Things never went right with you, either. By that time, I was starting to realize the trend my luck took. Do you know how _hard_ I tried to not fall in love with you? That's why I was such a bitch. Deep down, I knew something would happen and it wouldn't work, so I denied I was falling for you. I didn't have a family, I didn't need one. I didn't need you, or any of them. I didn't like you, you didn't like me, and everything was hunky-dory.

But goddammit, you some how manage to get under my skin. Not just you, the others too. Even that stupid kid and the mutt. You were what I had been looking for, and I guess what I needed.

Oh God, I tried so hard to keep you safe. Tried to watch your ass when I could, tried to keep you out of the loop when I couldn't, and worried like hell when I couldn't do either. Not that you ever noticed, or let me do that kind of shit. That first time you went after that psychotic son of a bitch, I was terrified, although I don't think I had fallen in love with you yet. You had gone to rescue me, because I had been an idiot. If you had died because of me, I don't think I could have handled it. Of course, later I found out that it wasn't necessarily because of me; you wanted that son of a bitch _dead_.

I suppose I'm grateful that at least you were honest about not giving a damn about me, just what I could do for you. Does it hurt more to know there's no chance, or to believe there's a chance then find out there never was one? I don't know.

That's why I ran away so much, you know. I couldn't handle not _mattering_. If I didn't matter to you, then you sure as hell didn't matter to me, and I didn't need you around. I can lie to everyone except myself; I ended up coming back every time. Although, damn you, you never came after me when I ran away.

There was that one time, though, when I tried to infiltrate that cyber-cult thing, and got caught. I remember waking up and seeing you there, and you smiled at me. And I might have been imagining it, but I thought you looked relieved. That's what made me think I had a chance.

I never did, that's clear now. You were so… _determined_ to keep reliving your past, never let it go. I can't compete with an obsession. You had won once, so you felt like you had to keep playing the same numbers. If I had known what she was to you, what you would do for her, hell, that you would go running off into a hail of gunfire for her, I never would have delivered the damned message. I'd have kept it to myself.

I don't know if she ever loved you or not, and I don't really care. What mattered was that you loved her, or thought you did. When you came back that night, I knew that you'd lost her some way or another. You have a wonderful poker face, but I can read you pretty good sometimes. Goddammit, I _tried_ to warn you that going back to the past would only hurt you. They mean it when they say you can't go back again.

Once she had cashed out, you could have kept playing; she wasn't holding your chips. You didn't have to go for broke. But then, all or nothing always was your style.

I've stopped crying about it, at least. Big girls don't cry. So I'm mad. I don't know who I'm mad at: me, you, him, her… Maybe all of the above. All I know is that I'm pretty sure I'm not mad at the kid or the dog. I do know that if you come through it, I'm going to kick your ass for being such an idiot, and then I'm going to try my luck again with you. But if you give up, well, then I guess I know how much the rest of us matter to you.

All bets are on the table, and this is the last call. We're just waiting for the ball to stop spinning. I don't care if you win big this time around, I just don't want you to leave the table yet.

Oh God, please don't leave the table yet.

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(1) Note- I'm making a rough guess as to how long it's been since Faye was woken up (My Funny Valentine). If I'm wrong, please tell me.


	3. Stray Dog Strut

Author's Note: Updating again (sorry for the delay). Third bit, and the first of two bits I had not intended to write. But Tasermon's Partner asked for bits from Ed and Ein's points of view, and frankly I took that as a challenge. (Yes, there is an Ed bit coming.) It is incredibly hard to write from a dog's point of view, even an assumedly self-aware dog. So anyway. Thanks to frouella, the above-mentioned Tasermon's Partner, and Felix von renselear for reviewing, and thanks to all the people who have been reading this. Anyway. On with da show.

* * *

Two-legs confuse me. I don't think I'll ever understand why some of them will stubbornly refuse to hunt as a pack, when clearly that's the best way to do things.

But maybe I'm being unfair. All I know is what I saw on what the two-legs call the news. Assistant two-legs had turned it on; he's the only one in this pack who cares about that sort of thing.

Maybe I shouldn't have left my old pack. I mean, it was always perfectly clear to me that they needed someone to look after them. They had always done silly things. I can remember Big two-legs almost falling for a trap I could smell from three feet away, even though it was on what Little two-legs called the internet. If it hadn't been for me, I think he might have died.

Then there was She two-legs. She needed looking after almost as much as Little two-legs does, even though I don't think she'd ever admit it. I remember her coming back a lot of times from what ever the two-legs did upset, once in a while hurt, and very occasionally so scared I could smell it from across the room, even over those nasty sticks all the grown two-legs liked. I still don't understand why she and Alpha two-legs weren't a mated pair.

Then there's Little two-legs. She's the reason I left the old pack; I personally had no complaints. They fed me tolerably well, and understood that I was smarter than most of my kind. I wish I could say the same for my current pack on that count, but oh well. But Little two-legs wanted to leave and find a new pack; I got the impression she did that often. And, well, someone has to look after Little two-legs. She doesn't have that instinctive fear of strangers that most of the two-legs have developed in self-defense, and sometimes I think she has less sense than a puppy without it's eyes open yet.

But Alpha two-legs was a different matter entirely. He was a loner by nature, but he was very good at the business of survival. I've seen him carried home, more than once, with injuries that should have killed him. He always woke up after a little while. Things seem to be different this time, and I don't know why.

I've known since the very first that Alpha two-legs was someone to trust. I know that he said often and loudly that he didn't like me, but I don't think he knew how to like anybody. And granted, our first meeting did very little to inspire like, what with the whole jumping on his head and knocking him in the river. But after he got used to me, he'd let me sit up on the sofa with him. I'd like to think he liked my companionship. Heaven knows he needed it.

I'm not sure anyone else besides me knew about the hurt he had inside. It wasn't the kind of hurt that you sit and lick and it gets better after a while. It was something else, and he didn't know how to fix it any better than I did. He was very good; I'm sure I was the only dog who could smell it on him, and two-legs are notoriously bad at figuring each other out.

It's very odd. I had always thought that Alpha two-legs was the one who would be fine, the one who would get along perfectly well on his own. When the Bad Thing got on the ship, the pest hurt the entire pack (except apparently Little two-legs), including me. I have fuzzy memories of Alpha two-legs finding me in the ventilation after I had lost a fight with it. And then when we all woke up, the Bad Thing was gone. Alpha two-legs recovered faster than all of us. I thought it would always be that way.

But according to this news, it appears I was wrong. The two-legs on the news said that he was in what they called a hospital. I assume it's the two-legs version of the vet's. From what I hear, the two-legs certainly feel the same way about the hospital that I do about the vet.

I can't ever remember the old pack taking him to the hospital. They always brought him home, which is one of the few sensible things they did. So I can only assume that his injuries are more serious this time.

I had thought that after the first fight with the rabid two-legs, Alpha two-legs would have realized that the best way to go after dangerous prey is with the whole pack. But he didn't; I can tell from what the news says.

Two-legs confuse me.


	4. Jamming With Edward

Author's Note: I will go ahead and say that this was the hardest bit of the entire thing to write. It's also the shortest, for the same damn reason. It's bloody _hard_ to write Ed and make her convincing. Her reaction is probably the hardest to get, because of the simple fact that she doesn't know how to be sad. Goodbye isn't a permanent thing for her, and I'm not entirely sure she understands the ramifications of death, or possible death. So I just went with this and hoped for the best…

* * *

He isn't doing it right.

Edo-chan has seen this game before. They played it all the time. Spike-person isn't doing it right. He's supposed to be on the Bebop with Jet-person and Faye-Faye. They can't play the game with him because he's not playing right.

Edo-chan saw it on the net while she was looking for fun things. She recognized the game, because they played it all the time. Except this time, Spike-person is doing it wrong.

Does this mean that Spike-person lost the game that they played? The game where they would go off and be cowboys and come back all wrapped up and moan and complain for days? They played it so much, maybe he got tired of it. Maybe this is a new game for Spike-person to play.

It doesn't seem like a very fun game. Edo-chan doesn't think that Jet-person and Faye-Faye like it very much. She saw a picture of Faye-Faye. She looked like she did after that time when she watched that old movie of little Faye-Faye. Maybe she doesn't understand the rules of Spike-person's new game? Or maybe he's winning and she doesn't like it. She doesn't like losing at all. Maybe that's it.

Maybe he's playing a new game because Edo-chan left. Maybe Edo-chan was important to the old game they played. Edo-chan always went and found the puzzles for them. Like that time with MPU. That was a different game, and they only won because of Edo-chan. Everybody won. The others had said that they hadn't gotten any money, but Edo-chan hasn't quite worked out if that was important to the rules of the game. But Edo-chan got to go with the Bebop, they got Edo-chan, and MPU got a friend. So they all won.

Maybe it's because of the other person Spike-person was playing with. He did bad things. He broke the rules. He _cheated_. Edo-chan thinks that Spike-person won his game with the cheater-person, but maybe he had to make up a new game, or at least new rules to the old game. Because he isn't following the rules to the old game. He's supposed to go home.

Maybe Spike-person never played by the same rules as Jet-person and Faye-Faye. He always seemed to keep score a little differently. Maybe they all thought they were playing by the same rules and they weren't. Things like that happen, sometimes. Of course, Edo-chan still hasn't figured out the rules to the game all the way. They're _confusing_.

Jet-person and Faye-Faye don't seem like they've been playing the game. Is the game over? Is Spike-person the winner? Or did he lose? Maybe it's still his turn. Edo-chan doesn't know. Maybe she'll ask whenever she goes back to the Bebop. Or maybe she'll have figured it out by then, and she can play the game too.

But Edo-chan still thinks he's doing it wrong.


	5. The Real Folk Blues

Author's Note: Yeah, this is the last part of the Aftermath of Cowboy Bebop. And no, actually, I didn't write this bit in response to reviews. I had intended to do this bit since I wrote the Hard Luck Woman chapter. Before anyone asks, no, I will not write a Vicious bit. Or a Julia bit. (I think the record will show that I loathe Julia.) _Might_ write a follow up bit with another character, but I seriously doubt it.

Disclaimer: Cowboy Bebop, and associated characters, does not belong to me. I wish it did. But I am merely borrowing the characters for a bit. Besides, I haven't any money to be sued for.

* * *

You know, life is funny sometimes. You might have a stretch where there's only one possible path to choose, or you might have a part where you've got all kinds of branches to check out. I think the metaphor that I'm trying to come up with is a river. Yeah, that makes sense. Life is a river.

I suck at metaphors.

I know I didn't explain things very well to her, but that's the only way I knew how to. Of course, I didn't mean any of that crap about my eyes literally. I hope she got that, or she'll be very confused. What I was trying to tell her, as best I could, was that I've just got too much past to ignore it. A part of me has to keep living in the past. I think it comes from having to look over my shoulder too much.

I wish she hadn't gotten all hysterical at the end. Everything was so much easier, so much less complicated when I could pretend to be oblivious to her. Hell, I think _she_ was oblivious. Or at least, pretending just as hard as I was. Even though she'd been a pain in the ass since the day I met her, I couldn't help liking her some. But I didn't want her involved in the shit that I knew would come and bite me in the ass. As it did. Hell, I was just trying to protect her. She'd had one run in with him already, and that was one too many. At least, protecting her was part of it. There was Julia, after all.

I hate thinking about could-have-beens.

It's amazing how being close to death clears the mind. More people should try it sometime. I think it would cut down on the bullshit remarkably.

Did Julia ever really love me? I wish I knew. When I met her, I was the biggest badass around. Generally speaking, I think that fairy-tales and love at first sight are crap. But I fell for her as soon as I saw her. Sitting there, singing, waiting for me to wake up after I had passed out in front of her apartment. How much of that was basic common sense? I mean, you've got a guy who's clearly organized crime of some sort; I wasn't really hiding it in those days. Gets hurt after a ruckus with some knuckleheads. Wouldn't it be a good idea to take care of him, particularly if you lived in his organization's turf? It would surely put you in good with the people who liked him. And God knows Julia didn't have to worry about anything after we hooked up. Not money, not protection.

The only thing she had to worry about was him. I don't know when he decided she belonged to him. I don't know if he even made that decision, or if she liked his prospects better than mine. She left me, or let me leave her, however it went, after things went sour between me and the organization. And I will admit that he was the rising star… Even I knew that.

I know that other woman's probably kicking herself for telling me what Julia had said. Maybe if I had thought about it some, I might not have gone. Was it really a coincidence that Julia never made the effort to seek me out until she was on the run from the organization too? Until after she'd realized what a crazy bastard he was, and she needed protection from the same guy who had been her protector before? She knew I'd come for her, that asshole and his so-called purge be damned.

It's kind of funny how the person I thought I really wanted to find me never did, and the one who kind of annoyed me always did. I kept hoping she'd leave, before she got involved in this mess. I thought she'd finally been able to find what she'd been looking for when she took off that last time. One less person to worry about. Except that it didn't work out that way. I'm sorry for what I did to her, but I don't think there was any way around it.

I am glad that the kid took off before the end. I don't think she would have understood. And I've already caused enough grief. Don't need the added guilt of traumatizing a kid. …More than I already have.

I keep going back to branches and choices. The river branches, and I don't know where each one will lead. Sometimes, they end up in surprising places. A branch I thought led one way goes somewhere else entirely, and the one I'm looking at comes from the most unexpected direction.

My family, the one that I made from the organization, is dead. But maybe my real family is still here, waiting for me to pull my head out of my ass.

The others will be better off without me, since I'm not here to bring the fire down onto them. But they tend to do that themselves, even without my interference.

I've lost Julia. But maybe I never had her in the first place.

I think I've pretty much destroyed any chance for a relationship with Faye, assuming I was willing to give it a shot. But then, Julia never tried to stop me.

Vicious said he was the only one who could kill me, and I'll admit getting killed by anyone else would feel like a screw up on my part. But do I really want to give him the credit of being right?

There's a lot of questions I don't know how to answer. Maybe they don't have an answer, or maybe the answer's what I want it to be.

It's like I said. Life is a river. Right now, I'm in the quiet bit right before the rapids. There's a big fork in the river up ahead. Do I go left or right? If I go one way, I'm going to go over a waterfall, and there's no way back. But I don't know what the other branch is like, or where it'll go. And this time, no one is going to make the call for me.

It's a hard choice to make.

* * *

Author's Note Addendum: I never promised a resolution. 


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